Moose and Squirrel
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Sam and Dean run afoul of a curse that turns people into animals. Oops. Now they have to figure out how to break the spell when Sam's colourblind and uncoordinated, Dean's even shorter than usual, and nobody can handle a gun. No spoilers except to the premise of the show.
1. Squirrel

**Author's Notes:**

Hello! I'm back. And I've been away for freaking ever, I know. Surgery's done and was a success, but it took a while for me to get everything in order again. Anyway, here I am. *g*

I have a load of review and PM replies I owe everyone, I'll get to those as I can.

In the meanwhile, enjoy the story!

This is my entry for the SPN Reverse Bang and I had just as much fun with it this year as I did last year. Senegalus is a wonderful artist who gave me a delightful starting picture and plenty of encouragement.

A big thank you goes to the spn_reversebang mods. They, and my artist, were incredibly patient and understanding with my delays and missed deadlines, and I'm very grateful for the support.

As always, Cheryl has been an awesome beta reader, and SandyDee84 was willing to be a sounding-board for all my insane ideas.

If anyone's impatient to read the whole thing at once, the full fic and download links are on my LJ.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the boys.

**Summary: **Sam and Dean run afoul of a curse that turns people into animals. Oops. Now they have to figure out how to break the spell when Sam's colourblind and uncoordinated, Dean's even shorter than usual, and nobody can handle a gun.

* * *

**Moose and Squirrel**

**Part I: Squirrel**

Once upon a time, a moose and a squirrel were very good friends. They lived together in the forest and –

Yeah. That's not the way this story is going to go. Do I look like Aeschylus to you? (Aeschylus is the Greek guy with the cutesy stories about animals, right, Sammy?)

This story is about Sam and me and a lot of bad things happening, because most stories (yeah, yeah, Aeschylus, Aesop, whatever) about Sam and me involve bad things happening. But we both came out of it alive, which is one of the few good things that sometimes happens. So it's not a tragedy or anything. (Like Sophocles. See? I listen to you sometimes, Sam. Even when you're yammering on about dead Greek dudes.)

Sam can (and if you're very unlucky, he probably will) explain how exactly the curse worked. He made sure to read all about it when we got back to civilization, and he made extensive notes that are now part of the Men of Letters' library. (They're filed under W for Witch. But the section on Witches takes up an entire room by itself, so good luck finding them.)

All I know is that we were driving – well, I was driving, and Sam was sitting shotgun and complaining about my music – and all of a sudden I got a weird tingly feeling in the tips of my fingers.

One of the first things you learn as a hunter is that weird tingly feelings should never be ignored because they are always, always something. I pulled over onto the side of the road (which was, lucky for us, empty). I was just in time. A moment later the tingling intensified to full on _burning_, like my bones had turned into red-hot pokers.

I heard Sam gasp next to me, a soft, bitten-off sound that meant _pain_. I reached for him, but my fingers came up inexplicably short.

Then the world went dark.

I woke up to noise, a horrible high drawn-out grunting that sounded like a cross between an owl and a man trying to push a semi truck up a mountain. There were words mixed up in it too, I couldn't hear them but I could sort of sense them in my head. _Out out out out out _and _Too close too close too small too small_.

I opened my eyes.

The world was… Different.

The Impala was _huge_. I was still in the driver's seat, except that now the steering wheel was approximately five hundred feet above my head. I could see trees and sky through the windscreen, but the colours were weird. Too much red and yellow, and the blue of the sky faded to almost grey.

The noise hadn't stopped. It had just grown louder and more frantic, both the grunting and the words.

I turned.

There was a mountain of fur next to me. It looked like a sort of dull orange, but photographic evidence shows that it was brown. (Of _course _it made the papers, Sammy, and every Instagram and Twitter account in a twenty-mile radius. What did you expect?) If I craned my neck, I could see something dark sticking out the top of the mountain.

The mountain was thrashing wildly.

In a way that was guaranteed to –

Screeching metal interrupted my thoughts. I saw the passenger door give way. The mountain followed it out.

Crap.

* * *

It was a few minutes before I could master movement. Cursory examination revealed that I had… paws… and fur… and a _tail_, and some kind of weird furry skin between my arms and legs.

And there was no sign of Sam.

Except…

The voice in my head had sounded a lot like him.

I glanced sideways at the mountain of fur, sitting where it had landed outside the Impala.

No. Way.

And then I realized I could still hear the grunting, but this time the words in my head were _Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean_.

Right. Sam, then. Sam as a four-year-old, apparently, if the way he was repeating my name without pausing or drawing breath was any sort of indication. It figured that Sam would turn into some big badass animal that could rip a car apart and I'd be a hamster.

I made my way cautiously across the seat. The line of Sam's back still looked like Mount Everest, but when I grabbed a bit of fur I discovered I had a knack for climbing. It took me less than a minute to shinny up to the top of his head.

I don't think he even felt me.

Judging by the huge antlers jutting out on either side of me, Sam was a moose.

With his great hooves on the torn-off door.

_Crap. _It was going to take a lot of work to fix her up again, even with all the tools and space in the bunker's garage. And Sam making more dents in the door wasn't really helping.

I tried to yell his name. What came out was an embarrassing, high-pitched chittering sound.

But Sam must have heard what I was trying to say the same way I could hear him, because he went completely still.

Then there was another grunt, accompanied by _Dean? _in my head.

_Yeah, I'm here. Get off the door, idiot. You're making it worse._

_Dean! _Sam scrambled to his feet, and it was only by grabbing the nearest handhold I could reach – his ear – that I managed to keep from being flung away. _Dean! Where are you?_

He was turning around in circles, and I would've laughed at him if he wasn't making me dizzy.

_Sam! Stop moving._

He froze.

_Now go to the car – slowly._

Sam obeyed, sidestepping around the door. I jumped off his head, instinctively spreading my arms and legs as I did. Something caught me, and I glided down in a gentle slope, landing lightly on the hood.

Sam was staring at me. The moment I landed, he ducked his huge head to peer at me from about four inches away.

_Dean?_

_Yeah._

_I can't see very well._

Sam sounded mournful. I wanted to laugh, and I also wanted to hurt something for making him sound like that, and most of all I wanted to figure out how to undo _this _thing because it was completely ridiculous for a hamster to be feeling protective of a giant bull moose.

_You're not a hamster_, Sam said. His head inched closer and he sniffed.

_Dude! _I snapped. _Stop smelling me._

_But it's the only way I'll know you._ He backed up a bit. _You're not a hamster, anyway. You're a flying squirrel._

_So I can fly?_

_You can glide. _Sam looked down at the door. _Sorry about that. I just… needed to get out._

_Yeah, well_, I said dismissively. _I can fix it. If we can fix this._

_Who do you think did it?_

_Witch, maybe? We'll figure it out. _I took a couple of steps forward and patted his nose. _Don't worry. But we need to get the car off the road, and hidden. Any ideas?_

Sam straightened. To me with my new diminutive size, the tips of his antlers seemed to be a mile off the ground. Judging by how tall he was relative to the Impala, it was probably about ten feet.

_I suppose I could push it._

_Smartass. _I tried to climb up to the top of the car, but I couldn't find purchase on the glass, and I didn't want to risk scratching it. _You'll have to put it in neutral first._

It wasn't easy, and we ended up with a crack in the windshield and the steering wheel out of alignment. But in the end we managed it. Sam pushed the car off the road behind a useful bank, and the door with it, and he dragged a bunch of fallen branches and leaves over to cover it. He kept muttering about how I was making him do all the work, but what point is there having a bull moose if you can't sit on the top of his head and ride around while he hauls things?

_Good job_, I said when he was done.

_What do we do now? _I thought about that, patting Sam's ear absently. He flicked it irritably, but when I patted it again he said,_ Do you remember when you started feeling… weird?_

I thought about that. _Ten, maybe twenty miles back._

_There was a house_, said Sam, proving that being turned into a moose hadn't affected his annoyingly accurate memory. _Just about fifteen miles from here._

_You think it was cursed or something?_

_It's all we have to go on._

I estimated the distance to the Impala. About ten feet. I could probably make it.

I jumped, ignoring Sam's startled protest, glided to the Impala, and landed on the roof with a slight thump.

_We'll be back soon, baby._

When I turned back to Sam, though, he took a step away.

_Oh, no. You are so not riding me._

_Sam. Come on._

_No. You have legs, Dean. You can walk._

_You're going to make me walk? Fifteen miles? Look at me, Sam! It might as well be five hundred miles._

_Maybe you can figure out how to glide._

_There isn't even any tree cover._

_You're not actually a squirrel, Dean. You don't need tree cover._

_Predators may not know I'm not actually a squirrel. _

_There are no predators here! This isn't the damn jungle._

_What if I get eaten by a cat?_

_A –_

_Or a dog?_

_Dean –_

_Or a fox? How would you feel if I got eaten by a fox?_

Sam huffed out a frustrated breath, but he let me climb up on his head again. I settled down pretty comfortably, clutching one of his ears to keep my balance.

_All right, Sammy. Chaaaaaaarge!_

_Shut up, Dean_, Sam said, moving forward at a slow, ambling place that I was sure was deliberately calculated to infuriate me.

_Giddyup!_

Sam ignored me.

_Mush!_

Sam stopped altogether, tipping his head forward so I had to tighten my hold on his ear to keep from falling. It wouldn't have hurt – there wasn't that far to fall, and the grass looked pretty springy – but it was the principle of the thing.

_Sam!_

_You want a ride, shut the hell up._

_Fine_, I muttered. No point arguing once Sam's started being prissy.

The road was empty for the most part. We saw the odd car, and once a minivan stopped and four kids tumbled out to the back to stare and take pictures. I was sure they hadn't noticed me; all the same, I tucked myself behind one of the huge antlers. No sense being on the front page of _Weekly World News _and inspiring some naturalist to come looking for us.

Sam sped up a bit once I'd stopped encouraging him to hurry, proving how contrary he can be, the little bitch. (What do you call a female moose? A she-moose? A moosette?) We covered the fifteen miles pretty quickly, and then there was a little house sitting by itself. Yellow walls, red-tiled roof, and it had that indefinable abandoned look to it.

I tugged on Sam's ear to get his attention.

_How do we break in? You can't pick locks like this. I could try, but I left the kit in the Impala._

_Climb up to the top, _Sam suggests. _Must be an opening somewhere that you can get through. Then you can come down and open the door for me._

_Climb._

I looked up. The roof was _high. _Sure, there might have been trees that were higher, but I hadn't been a squirrel for very long, and I don't like heights anyway. You'd think, of the two of us, _Sam _would be the one to end up with wings, but no such luck.

_You'll be fine_, Sam said, and it was just typical that even his voice in my head sounded sappy. _I wish I could help._

_Yeah, yeah. _I tugged his ear. _Will you be able to see me up there?_

_Probably not. Moose can't see very well. _Sam's ears pricked up in panic. _Dean, what if I can't find you again? What if you get lost? You're so tiny –_

_Hey!_

_And if you go up and I can't find you later –_

_HEY! _I yelled, because the grunting sounds that were what humans would hear when Sam spoke were getting high and panicked, like a moose in distress, and we didn't need PETA coming to investigate. _I might be tiny, but you're not. You just hang around the house, stay out of sight of people, and I'll find you. Don't I always come for you?_

_Well, there was that one time in Tallahassee when you were so busy with the checkout girl at the grocery store that –_

_Sam!_

_Yeah, OK. _Sam went up to the wall, walking along it until he found a drainpipe. I slid down his muzzle and grabbed the pipe. It didn't give me a comfortable grip like Sam's fur did, but I could manage.

_Stay out of trouble_, I said. _I'll be back, OK?_

_Yeah_, Sam muttered.

I didn't look back at him. I knew if I did he'd be puppy-dogging me for all he was worth. And considering how lethal those big dewy eyes were on human Sammy, I was sure they'd be even worse on moose Sammy.

* * *

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	2. Moose

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine.

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, to Cheryl for the beta and Senegalus for the amazing art.

* * *

**Part II: Moose**

I watched Dean go. He blurred into the shadows of the drainpipe much sooner than he would've done if I'd been human.

Being colourblind as a moose didn't help.

I huffed, startling myself when it came out sounding a lot more violently dangerous than I'd intended.

Then, when I heard someone honk from the road, I figured I'd be better off out of sight. I went around the side of the house to the back.

The yard hadn't seen a mower or clippers for far too long. The grass was overgrown, knee-high in some places. The hedge, which probably hadn't been very neat to begin with, looked like it was about to become sentient. The windows were shut and the curtains drawn. I probably wouldn't have been able to see anything in any case, but it was depressing that I couldn't even try. I looked up at the roof, and I _think _I squinted (can a moose squint?) but everything was a grey blur. I had no idea where Dean was or what was up with him.

(Shut up, Dean. You would have been just as worried.)

There was nothing else for it, so I curled up on the ground as best I could – it was hard getting down without my front legs and my back legs sort of tangling and sending me sprawling, and it took me a couple of tries to manage it.

I was starting to have a lot of sympathy for Bambi.

(Oh, god, shut _up_, Dean! You weren't supposed to hear that.)

Eventually I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew something small and furry landed on my nose. I let out a snort of surprise and tried to grab for it, forgot I didn't have hands, and ended up in an undignified heap.

_Sammy! _Came what I was starting to recognize as Dean's voice. _Calm down, kiddo. Just me._

_Dean? Where are you?_

_Here. _Something tugged my ear.

_Stop pulling my ear, Dean. And get down where I can see you._

Something tickled the top of my head, and then my field of vision was full of grey fur and tiny paws and a distractingly fluffy tail. (In case I wasn't clear, it was _Dean's _tiny paws and fluffy tail. So it's actually good there are pictures of it online, because _Dean _had a fluffy _tail_.)

_I found something_, Dean said, bouncing off my nose onto the grass. Grey grass. _Whoever lived here – probably a witch. Or a wannabe witch at the very least. There's a book that says something about animal transformations. Come see._

_You think it has a cure?_

_Looks like a spell book to me. I don't want to waste time reading it. What do I have my trusty sidekick Geekmoose for?_ _C'mon, come see. It's inside._

I started to get to my feet, and found that it was even more complicated than lying down had been. I got my forelegs up, and before I could follow with my hind legs I'd lost my balance and had a face full of grass. I tried again, hind legs first this time, and I almost tumbled head-over-heels.

It didn't help that I could hear Dean's maniacal laughter in my head.

(Yeah, _maniacal _is _exactly _the word I'd use to describe it, Dean. You sounded _exactly _like Belloq in _Raiders_.)

_Come on,_ Dean said at last. _I'll steer. Can't be too hard. _

He scampered up my nose to the top of my head again. I was getting really, really tired of being a jungle gym, but of course it'd be no good telling Dean that.

_Right foreleg_, he said. _Come on, Sammy, you can do it._

It took a couple of attempts, but eventually I was on my feet.

_Awesome. Inside, now. I got the back door open for you, because I'm just that awesome. Come on. Forward march._

_Enough with the drill sergeant, Dean, _I grumbled, going to the open back door.

I fully intended to go in, but only my nose made it through the doorway. Then I felt a sudden sharp pain in my head, and before I knew what was happening I was on my ass on the grass with my skull feeling like someone was driving nails into it.

_Crap! Sammy! _Dean's voice was right in my ear. _I forgot your antlers. I'm sorry, Sammy. _I felt something stroke the side of my head, and a little paw squeeze just right so the pain receded a little. _Easy._

_What happened? Am I dying?_

Dean snickered, but he kept rubbing my head. _You're going to be fine, you big baby. The house, not so much._

I looked up. The plaster had cracked on either side of the doorway, well over the top of it.

_I could try turning going through it sideways._

Dean scoffed, scampering to the other side of my head and rubbing there. _Have you seen you? You're even bigger than usual, Sammy. No, you can't go in to the book. We're going to have to figure out a way to bring it out to you._

_Where is it?_

_Upstairs. I suppose I could push it out a window._

I cringed. We were desperate, yeah, but not _so _desperate that we needed to be dropping books onto damp grass.

_Isn't there another way? Or we could lay a couple of mattresses on the ground. Keep the dew off –_

_Sam! _Dean waved his tail (did I mention Dean had a fluffy tail?) in front of my eyes. _I'm a squirrel. I can't move mattresses around. Don't even know how I'm going to push the book, but at least it's on a table by the window. It's fine. Evil book like that can probably take a bit of dew._

_You could read it._

_I don't want to. Come on, Sammy. It'll be fine._

_Yeah, OK_, I said, because we really were out of options. _Do it._

Dean jumped off my head, landing lightly on four paws. I got to my feet carefully, watching him scurry away until he blurred into the background of the house.

I couldn't see Dean, but I could hear the pushing and shoving and little flying-squirrel grunting as he got the book to the upstairs window. Then there was a _Head's up, Moosette _and the book thumped onto the grass.

A minute later, Dean landed on my head.

_I'm not a moosette_, I told him. _That's not even a word. And I'm not a damn helipad, Dean._

_Awww, don't be like that._ Dean leapt off my nose and glided to the grass. (No, I _don't _think I need to add the adjective 'gracefully' to that.)

I looked at the book –

And realized I couldn't open it.

_Dean._

_Yeah? _Dean asked, turning to me. He stared for a moment before he realized the problem. _Awww, does Samantha need help?_

_Dean!_

_It's ironic, isn't it, that of the two of us, you've turned into the animal that can't handle books._

_Dean, _I wheedled.

_Yeah, yeah, fine. _He went to the book and flipped it open. _Here you_ _go, Your Royal Mooseness. Tell me which page I need to go to next._

I had to get up really close to the book to be able to read it, and Dean took his sweet time turning the pages the way I needed them, but in the end we got there.

_The spell, _I said, and Dean left what he was doing to climb up on my head again and look down at the page. _This must be it. Transmutatio. Spell that can turn one animal into another, including humans. _The page was covered with scribbles, notes, and little diagrams in the margins.

_How does it work?_

_Scale of a dragon, feather from a griffon… Griffons are real? I hope we don't run into one of those one day. Huh. Hair from a werewolf. I suppose that's what helps with the transformation part of it. _

_And an onion_, Dean added from above me. _What kind of crazy-ass spell needs an onion?_

_And who put it on us? Look at it. She needs to mix up this… crap… And then sprinkle the stuff on the road and the first people to cross it are cursed. So whoever it was must've done it right before we came, it's a busy road._

_You think someone has it in for us? _Dean asked.

I snorted.

_Yeah, I see what you mean, _Dean agreed. _Fine. So… Where is this person now?_

_Missing? _I shook my head, making Dean squeak and clutch my ear. _Doesn't matter. See, there's the counter-spell._

_Looks even harder than the actual spell. Birch twigs cut at the full moon? Where do we even find that? And… OK, all this Wiccan crap we could get easily enough normally, but neither of us can exactly go shopping now. _

_And the fountain, _I muttered.

The text said _fountain of starlight_, whatever the hell _that _meant, but one of the notes in the margins pointed to it. _Map, pg. 29_.

The spellbook definitely hadn't had a map on page 29.

_Hey, Dean. You want to go back inside?_

Dean bit my ear, probably just to be annoying, but he scarpered down and back over to the house. (No, you didn't nip it, Dean. You _bit _my ear.)

I knew it would take a while, and I was starting to get hungry, so I tried a bite of some of the knee-high grass. I figured I was probably doing a favour to whoever owned the place, and it didn't taste awful – kind of like alfalfa sprouts.

I'd cropped a fair bit of it when I got the sudden feeling I was being watched.

If I'd had hands, one would've been on my Taurus in a heartbeat. As it was, I went as still as I could, stiller than I ever could've gone as a human, even a hunter.

I couldn't see worth a dime, but I heard it: soft footsteps in the grass behind me. I swivelled my ears. It sounded like a fairly large person, but I couldn't tell more than that.

And then I caught a whiff of… _something_. Something that had all my hunter's instincts screaming –

Gunpowder.

I turned, head down ready to charge. There was a figure, a man. He was shorter than the human version of Dean. Bulky, though that could've been the way he was dressed.

He moved, and sunlight glinted on something in his hands.

I was pretty sure it wasn't binoculars.

There was a deafening report, a bright flash, and a line of burning pain down my right shoulder. I staggered for a moment, and then I did the only thing I could – I ran straight at him. He screamed and fired again. Fortunately _that _shot went wide; I didn't see where it went but it was nowhere near me.

Then he ran.

I chased him enough to see him disappear into the trees, enough to be certain he wasn't going to come back in a hurry, and then I went back to the house. I had my blurry vision trained on the upstairs windows, so I jumped almost out of my skin when I heard a squirrel chittering, accompanied by Dean's horrified voice in my head.

_Sammy! _The now-familiar feeling of something small and furry landing on my head, and then, _God, Sammy, what the hell happened? _

_Hunter_, I said tersely, suddenly remembering – and feeling – the gunshot wound. _How bad is it?_

_Let me see. _Dean slid down my neck to my shoulder. I let out a breath when I felt tiny paws probe the wound. _Easy, easy, kiddo. Just a graze. We should find a stream or something, I can try to clean it out._

_Did you find the map?_

_Yeah, and the fountain's marked. _He climbed back up to my head. _So first let's go back and you can use that geek brain of yours to memorize the map, since we can't exactly carry it with us. Then we'll find somewhere to clean off._

_I think clean up can wait, _I protested.

Dean shifted forward to sit on my nose. I had to cross my eyes to see him. His fur looked a little matted with dark grey splotches of something.

_We're going to clean up_, he said flatly.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	3. Squirrel II

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Author's Note: **Sorry this is late! I was out of town over the weekend. I'll reply to all the reviews tomorrow or Friday. I thought you'd rather have the next chapter first.

Many thanks to Cheryl for the beta.

* * *

**Part III: Squirrel**

So once I got it into Sam's stupid head that we _were _going to clean up –

(Have you ever had literally every inch of you covered in your brother's blood? No? Then shut it, Sam.)

I'd shoved the book of maps out the window. Sam peered at it short-sightedly for a few minutes, and then snorted.

_On the other side of that last town we passed_, he said. _Shouldn't be hard to find. _

_When's the full moon? _I asked.

Sam scrunched up his nose. After a moment's thought, he said, _Tonight._

_Great. So if we can get the Wiccan crap and find some birch before the moon sets…_

_We need to get to the fountain tonight_, Sam said, nose in the book again. _It says here the fountain is only magical for a week on either side of the Spring and Autumn Equinox. Today's the last day. If we don't get this done now…_

_We'll have to find a place for you to hibernate_, I finished. _Does a moose need to hibernate?_

_How about we make sure we don't have to find out?_

_Right. So… Wiccan crap. I saw a store in that town, had bunches of patchouli in the window. We should be able to find all we need there._

_But how do we pay for it? _Sam sounded distressed.

I don't know if squirrels can roll their eyes, but if not, I was the first in history to manage it.

_We'll leave them an IOU. Come on, Sammy. There was a hose around the side of the house. I'm pretty sure I can manage to turn it on._

* * *

Twenty minutes later and a lot cleaner and damper, we were on our way to town. Sam was making good speed; it was all I could do to hold on tight enough to keep from falling off. I didn't bother hiding this time. Sam was going too fast for anyone to get a clear picture on a cell phone camera from a moving car.

He slowed down when we got to the outskirts of the town.

_You can't come to the Wiccan store with me_, I said. _It's right on the main road._

_But you can't carry all the stuff we need yourself. It's going to be too heavy. We'll wait till dark and find the back entrance._

_Cutting it close on time, aren't we? What time does the moon go down?_

Fortunately we'd recently hunted a werewolf, so Sam was a walking lunar almanac.

_We have time. Moonrise is late today. And it doesn't set till almost five in the morning. Besides, we need to wait for the stores to close. _He shifted into a clump of trees. _Lucky for us, small town like this, nobody's going to be open very late._

_Fine. So we wait for sunset and then get the Wiccan crap. What do we do now?_

_Find birch trees. And the fountain if we have time. Then we'll know where to –_

_Sam_, I prodded when he stopped short. _Sam, what?_

_I hear something._

He turned slowly.

There was a man carrying a rifle, watching us closely.

Sam's nose twitched.

_Dean, it's him._

_The guy who shot you? Are you sure?_

_His cologne. I can smell it._

_OK. _I considered the distance between me and the guy. Hundred, hundred and fifty yards. Technically, based on how I'd dived off the witch's house, I could probably make the jump. _Wait here, kiddo._

I leapt off the top of Sam's head, arms and legs spread, and let the wind catch me.

The hunter stared, a little disbelieving.

I landed on his head. I took a minute to get my balance, and then I dug in with teeth and claws. He yelled, firing his rifle wildly. I glanced back – he hadn't managed to hit Sam – and went at him harder.

He dropped the gun and reached up, but I evaded his big, clumsy hands, skittering down to his shoulder and biting and clawing at his neck, his ear, his wrist, pretty much any part of him I could reach.

_Dean! _Sam yelled. _Jump!_

I turned. Sam was charging at the guy. I gauged the distance, took a deep breath and pushed off, landing perfectly on Sam's head.

Oh, yeah. I would've been an _awesome _cowboy.

Sam didn't break stride, and I turned, feeling the rush of air and enjoying the sight of the hunter's face as he realized that a bull moose the size of a truck was charging at him.

He turned and ran.

_After him_, I urged. _Make sure the son of a bitch never comes back._

Sam didn't actually try to run him down – he's Saint Samantha, after all – but he chased him and made angry-moose noises (which actually didn't sound that different from angry-Sam huffing) and the hunter squealed like a little kid and disappeared.

_Who is he? _Sam asked, staring after him and breathing hard. _That's the second time… It can't be a coincidence. He's following us._

_Do you think he's the witch?_

_Maybe. But you said the house looked abandoned._

_I don't like this. _I rubbed Sam's head. _Keep your ears open, Sammy. Can't have him sneaking up on us. Now let's go find that birch. We have at least three hours before the sun goes down. _Almost on cue, my stomach grumbled. _Actually, I'm kind of hungry. Any idea where I can get a squirrel-sized burger?_

* * *

I clung to the branch and stared up at the tree.

_You have got to be kidding me._

Sam already had his nose buried in a bush. _Acorns._ _That's what squirrels eat, Dean. Try it. You'll probably like it._

_Easy for you to say. _I glowered at him. _Green crap in a bowl, green crap off a tree – it's probably just the organic, farm-fresh version of your normal food._

_Try it._

_That tree is like three hundred feet high._

_It's not a giant sequoia, Dean. And if it bothers you that much, just eat the acorns on the ground. Squirrels do that all the time._

_Gross. They have dirt on them._

_It'll build your immune system._

_Sam! _I leapt off the branch and landed on his back. _Sammy, come on. You're not going to make me starve? What if acorns make me sick?_

_You're a squirrel. I'm pretty sure that won't happen._

_Sammy._

I scrambled down his neck to his bent head. It wasn't as easy and climbing _up _him, and when he shifted his head to get at a clump of leaves I almost fell off.

_Sam!_ I grabbed a nearby branched and shinned down it to face him. _Sam, come on. I can't eat acorns._

_Dean._

_Sammy!_

Sam groaned, but he lowered his nose so I could climb on his head and found me a blackberry patch.

_Stay here_, he huffed. _I'm going to find a birch tree._

_Be careful_, I yelled after him, though I wasn't too worried. He'd said he couldn't hear or scent any humans, and it wasn't like anything without a gun was going to try tangling with an adult bull moose.

* * *

I wasn't sure how long it was before Sam came back, but the shadows were starting to lengthen and I was stuffed to bursting with blackberries. My paws and muzzle were sticky with juice. I'd have to get Sam to stop at a stream on the way into town.

Sam sniffed me and snorted in amusement.

_So I take it you're not hungry anymore._

_Stop smelling me_, I said, climbing onto his head again. _OK, Moosette. Let's go._

_It's Sam._

_What was that, princess? Can't hear you above the cicadas._

_Dean! There are no cicadas! _Sam started towards the town at a steady trot. _I found some birch and I found the fountain._

_Are you sure it's _the _fountain?_

_If it isn't, someone's been to a hell of a lot of trouble to build a marble basin in the middle of the forest and carve spells into it._

_Spells?_

_And also about thirty dollars in pennies._

_Thirty dollars? That's not a lot._

_It is when you consider how out of the way it is. Of course, some of them look pretty old – years, decades, maybe more._

_Huh. _I crouched behind Sam's ear as we started to get close to the road. _That's weird._

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to get into town unnoticed after dark. You ever get the feeling people have an amazing ability to ignore things they don't understand? (Like that guy we met in Omaha, remember him, Sammy? He couldn't step into his kitchen without knives flying at his head but he still refused to believe in poltergeists.)

Sammy seemed to have an even more accurate GPS in his head as a moose than as a man. He got us to an alley leading to the back entrance of the Wiccan store we'd seen driving by.

We had a simple plan – Sam would stay out of sight while I gathered what we needed, I'd collect all the stuff in a bag on the downstairs back window ledge, Sam would show up in an hour, I'd find a way to harness the bag to him, and we'd go to the birch trees. Accounting for another hour for screw-ups, disasters and unexpected choking incidents (that one was for Sammy's sake, not mine), we'd make it to the birch trees right after moonrise.

Part One of the plan went without a hitch, which has to be some kind of record. I got into the store through an open window, Sam sidled off to loiter somewhere further from civilization for an hour, and I got to work.

I got bunches of rosemary and heather, a cartouche, a couple of bits of bone and fur and other gross things, a little iron pentagram, and managed to stuff it all in a paper bag that had _Madame Xarina's Occult Supplies _in big letters that, even in the dim light, gleamed horribly purple. The store was surprisingly well organized, so long before my hour was up I was sitting on the windowsill, bag next to me, waiting for Sammy to show up.

I don't know how I managed not to notice the cat.

I realized it was there when my hunter's senses tingled, and I leapt off the ledge just as a hissing ball of evil orange fur leapt onto it. It followed me to the ground.

I spread my limbs and jumped, but from the ground with next to no wind I couldn't get airborne.

I ran.

The cat was right behind me.

Crap.

Crap crap _crap_.

_Let me go! _I yelled, diving behind a trashcan. _I'm not a real squirrel._

_Smell like a squirrel_, came the cat's voice, as it poked its head around the trashcan. _Look like a squirrel. I bet you taste like a squirrel too. Only one way to find out._

_Listen, buddy, if you know what's good for you, you'll get lost before my little brother gets here, or he'll kick your ass._

_Your little brother? _The cat stopped trying to claw me and laughed so hard it almost coughed up a hairball. _Your little brother is going to kick my ass? How tall is he, an inch?_

_I'm warning you –_

The trashcan went to the ground with a clatter. I barely managed to get out of the way before a clawed paw swiped through the air where I'd been a moment ago.

Crap.

The cat pounced again, and this time I wasn't fast enough. Its forepaws pinned me down. I could see gleaming teeth.

_Crap._

Just my luck, to survive angels and demons and vampires and werewolves and goddamn _witches _and finally get eaten by a cat.

_Hey!_

The voice was accompanied by angry-moose grunts, and my heart leapt.

_Sammy! _I yelled. _I'm here._

The cat hissed in my face. _You think I'm going to fall for this?_

_HEY! _Sam bellowed, right behind the cat now. _Get off my brother!_

The cat turned.

It yowled and leapt about fifty feet in the air. As soon as it was off me I ran for Sam, grabbing his leg and swarming up it. My heart was still going about a million miles a minute; it didn't stop until I was sitting safely between Sammy's ears.

The cat landed on the edge of a dumpster, where it stood and eyed Sam.

_The… the squirrel is _your_ brother._

_My _big _brother_, Sam specified.

_Your big brother. You mean… You mean _big_, right? Big like humans say? He's your _big _brother._

_Were you going to eat my big brother?_

The cat made a tiny _meep _sound.

_Your brother? That's your brother? No no no. No way, man, we were just… You know… Making friends. Just a little playfulness between buddies. That's all. Eat him? No way! I wasn't going to eat him. I don't even like the taste of squirrel._

Sam huffed. _ Never touch my brother again._

_Sure, man. Never again._

I couldn't resist patting Sam's head proudly.

_This is my baby brother_, I told the cat.

* * *

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	4. Moose II

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine.

Many thanks to Cheryl for the beta and all the wonderful people who reviewed Chapter 3.

I'll be out of town for the next few days, so the fifth and final part of this story will go up next week.

* * *

**Part IV: Moose**

Once the cat had gone and Dean had stopped trembling (yes, you _were_, Dean, I could _feel _it) I let him sling the paper bag over my shoulder. It took some work and a lot of string to get it to stay in place.

Finally, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot like a horse done up for dressage, I made my way through town down back alleys and shadowed lanes, Dean riding on top of my head like a tiny, fuzzy, grabby hat, if a hat kept calling you names like _Merrylegs _and saying _Yoicks _and _Tally-ho_.

I'd hoped to get away clean, and we very nearly did.

We were at the outskirts of town, about half a mile from the forest cover, before I heard a soft sound, like a sneeze, from behind us, and something metallic whistled past my ear.

_Dean? _I picked up the pace. _What is it?_

_Animal control_, came Dean's voice, as his paws tightened in my fur. _They've got a tranq gun. Run, Sammy._

I broke into a gallop. The bag was bouncing uncomfortably, but it stayed in place. I could only hope nothing had fallen out of it. I could feel Dean's death-grip, and hear his exhilarated laughter.

_That's my boy! That's it, Sammy! Chaaaaaaaaarge!_

There was another sound, and another dart missed me by an inch.

_Crap_, Dean hissed. _Go faster, Sam. If they take you down and put you in a zoo it's going to be hell to bust you out._

There was a dumpster ahead of me.

I had no idea how to jump, or if moose _could_ jump. I'd never even jumped a horse.

But there was nothing else for it, so I gathered my legs under me and sprang. I cleared the dumpster easily, hooves sailing over the top –

And then something sharp bit into my left rear leg.

I landed hard, feet going out from under me.

_Sammy! _Dean's voice was frantic. _Sammy, what is it? Get up, Sam. _I could hear thudding footsteps now. _Sam, come on, get up, get up. You have to get up! _The world was swimming. _Get UP!_

Dean bit my ear hard.

I groaned and staggered to my feet.

_Good_, Dean grunted. _Now go, go, go!_

_Can't –_

_Sammy, come on. You can do it. Run!_

My head was heavy and my legs felt like lead, but I managed to break into a shambling was like my body knew what to do after that and everything was muscle memory. I fell into a canter, and then into a hard gallop, while Dean clutched my ears and whooped and the sounds of people faded behind us.

Then we were in the trees.

The adrenaline left me in a rush. I stumbled and staggered and went down to my knees.

_Easy, kiddo_, Dean soothed. I felt him moving. A moment later he spoke again, from behind me this time. _Yeah, it's a tranq dart. _A slight sting as he pulled it out. _Small one, fortunately. That's why it didn't take you down. Don't think they usually have to worry about anything more than a stray dog._ He was back at my head. _OK, kiddo. Take ten._

_What? We don't have time._

_Sam. You're not winning any races like this. We've still got, what, five or six hours until the moon sets? Take a nap, I'll wake you in an hour._

I wanted to protest, but my eyelids were too heavy.

* * *

I woke to a frantic refrain of _Sammy Sammy Sammy Sammy Sammy _accompanied by high-pitched chittering in my ear.

_What? _I asked sleepily. _I'm up. What is it? What's wrong?_

_Sam. Thank God. _Dean sounded like he was about to cry from relief. _Oh, man, you were out like OUT, and I couldn't wake you up, and – are you OK?_

_Yeah. _I shook my head to clear it. _Yeah, I'm… _I trailed off as I looked up. _Oh crap. _The moon was a lot further along the sky than it should've been. _How long'd I sleep?_

_I don't know. Two hours, maybe._

_Crap. _I staggered to my feet. _Dean, we have to hurry._

_Yeah, take it easy, big guy. Not going to help us if you crash again. We've got time. _I felt him settle between my ears. _You remember where to go for the birch trees?_

I squinted up at the sky. With my blurry monochrome moose vision I couldn't see the stars. It was dark. I had nothing to go by. But –

Something, some sort of indefinable instinct, was pinging in my head, telling me which way was north.

I took a deep breath, getting my bearings.

_Yeah, _I said at last. _Come on. Let's go._

_Lead the way, Moosette._

_That's not even a word!_

* * *

I made for the birch trees first. They were growing in a sort of grove around a small forest pool. Moonlight streamed down on it, and I had a moment's regret that I was a moose and couldn't really see what it looked like. It must've been beautiful.

_Get them_, I told Dean.

I lost sight of him as soon as he leapt to the ground, but he kept up a running commentary so I could hear him.

_On the grass… In the tree… Crap, it's difficult to climb in the dark… _

I was watching the tree where I thought he was, when my hunter's instincts started pinging. Someone – or something – was watching me. I turned in a full circle, managing not to trip over my own feet this time. The grove was empty, except for me and –

A shadow sailed across the moon. I could just see it, wings outstretched and –

_No._

_No no no no no._

It was making right for us.

_Dean! _I yelled. _Dean, come here._

_What? _came Dean's voice, a little muffled. _I'm busy, Sammy. Birch twigs –_

_Screw that. Come here. Now, Dean!_

_Sammy –_

_NOW, Dean!_

Dean grumbled, but a moment later I felt him land on my head.

A moment later, an owl sailed into one of the trees.

_Crap, _Dean hissed. _Predators._

_Get down_, I told him. _Hide in the bag or something. I'll figure out a way to get the twigs._

_Just get closer and I'll be able to –_

_No you won't. I can barely see. I won't be able to see you if you disappear into a tree. We're not risking it._

_Get close, Sammy. _I felt Dean tug my ear. _To your left, about five feet. See that branch? I won't need to go into the tree for that. Just lean up as high as you can and I can break some twigs off._

_But the owl –_

_Owl won't know I'm there until it's too late._

_But –_

_Look, I'll break off the twigs and then hide in the bag, OK? It'll just take me a minute._

_Fine, _I said, going to the tree he'd indicated and stretching my neck up. _Be quick about it._

I felt Dean moving on my head and heard the snapping of twigs. But the owl was moving too – I couldn't see it, but I could hear the rustle of its wings.

_Dean! _I called desperately. _Dean, hide. Never mind the birch –_

Closer.

_Just a minute_, Dean grunted.

I sensed the movement before I heard it, and I flung myself down. Dean tumbled, losing his grip, and a shadow swooped by where my head had been a moment ago.

_Get me back up_, Dean said, already climbing my leg again. _Come on, Sammy, we have to do this._

_He's going to eat you, Dean. It isn't worth it._

_Sam. We can't spend the rest of our lives like this. We have to do it. Come on. _He was on my head now. _I bit halfway through one of them, I just need a second._

_Fine, _I said, standing up, listening carefully for any sound of the owl coming back. There was no sign of it. It had probably found something else to chase. All the same… _Hurry._

Dean got to work. In less than a minute he was sliding down my neck and a heavy weight settled into the bag.

_OK, Sammy! _Dean said, his voice a little muffled by the paper. _Go go go!_

I ran.

* * *

It was easy to find the fountain. Whatever moose-sense was in my head, it was as good as GPS. I knew where to go, and I found that it was easier to dodge low branches and jump over fallen logs if I didn't think about it too much.

The magic fountain was… Well, a _magic_ _fountain_. White marble, or at least it looked white to me, almost glowing in the moonlight. The edges were carved with a mixture of Latin and old Icelandic runes. Whatever plumbing had originally been installed in it still worked. Water arced up into the air and fell, droplets glittering like diamonds, into the wide basin. The bottom was littered with coins that were probably green with oxidation.

_Wow_, Dean whispered, climbing up onto my head to look around. _Sammy…_ _This is_ _awesome_.

_Isn't it? _I took a couple of steps into the clearing. _Come on. Let's do this and then we can see it through human eyes._

_I don't know, _Dean teased. _Squirrels have a pretty good sense of sight._

_Dean!_

He laughed and scrambled down to undo the bag. I felt him struggling with the knots for a minute, and then he growled and bit through the handle. It fell to the ground. I sidestepped carefully to avoid destroying anything we'd need for the spell.

It was because I was so busy trying not to crush our ingredients that I didn't hear it the first time.

The second time, I did.

A soft _pad-pad-pad _sound, and breathing. My senses were tingling.

There was a gust of wind, and a smell – danger.

_Dean. _I straightened and looked around. _Hide._

And then it happened, too fast for me to react. There was a vicious snarl, and something jumped at me. I ducked, and lines of fire were scored down my flank. I bucked my legs. There was another snarl, a thud –

_Sammy! _Dean's voice sounded far away.

There, a few feet away from me, was a tiger. A white tiger, as far as I could judge, pale and dark stripes blending so perfectly into the moonlit undergrowth that, when it was still, I could barely see that it was there.

A _tiger_.

_So somebody managed it at last_, it said.

_Somebody managed what? _I asked, trying to ignore the pain of where it had clawed me. I had to keep its attention on me. That was our only hope. Then Dean could turn himself human and figure out a way to scare the tiger off.

_To get here with the supplies, of course, _the tiger said.

I nodded. It made sense. Tigers weren't native, after all. It couldn't be a wild tiger, and it was unlikely to have escaped from a zoo. That left only one option.

_You were human. And you got caught in the spell._

_Very good. _The tiger backed up a few steps like it was preparing to spring again. _Keep going. _

_You knew to come here. _I eyed it warily. I might be able to do some damage to it. I'd seen enough documentaries to know even lions were scared of full-grown Cape buffalo, and a moose couldn't be too far different. _So… Either you're a hunter yourself, or…_

_Get there, boy, _the tiger said. _Then I can kill you._

_Or you're the witch. You got caught in your own spell._

_Very good._

_But then why not break it yourself? You must have known the counter-spell, and you obviously knew where to find the fountain. Do you like being a tiger?_

The tiger sprang. I ducked, and it sailed over my head. It landed a few feet from the bag with the stuff. I hoped Dean would stay hidden. It hadn't noticed him yet.

It took a step towards the bag.

I lowered my head and charged.

The tiger wasn't fast enough to back away. I got my head under its side and tossed.

It was heavier than I expected, and I couldn't get it far. It flew a few feet and hit the ground with a hard thud, rolling a couple of times before coming to a stop. It looked up at me, hissing through its teeth.

I'd only managed to make it angry.

* * *

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	5. Squirrel III

**Author's Note: **So it's almost April, and finals and essays and other unpleasant things are looming. Which means less time for fandom stuff. I will be posting a couple of one-shots that I've written already, and possibly my Big Bang fic depending on the posting date, but other than that, I won't be doing a whole lot of fic-writing for the next couple of months.

See you on the flip side! (If I survive.)

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

**Part V: Squirrel**

And where was I, while my brother was facing off against a witch-turned-apex-predator? I was scuttling between the bag of Wiccan crap and the marble basin, gathering everything we needed on the lip of the fountain. The moon was hanging low in the west now, and I knew we didn't have a lot of time.

I deliberately shut my ears to the snarling from the tiger and the bellowing from Sam. I couldn't help him, not as a squirrel, and if I tried to interfere it would only end with both of us getting killed.

I'd heard enough of the conversation to know the tiger was the witch who'd cast the spell and managed to get caught in it. (Funny how poetic justice never works in our favour, isn't it, princess?) I didn't know if witches could cast spells in tiger form, but I wasn't about to assume that they couldn't. And the _only _thing I could do to help my brother was to turn back into a human and find a way to disable the tiger before it killed him.

If I was too late…

I forced myself not to think of that. I wasn't going to be too late. I was going to save Sammy.

I grabbed the birch twigs – the last thing I needed for the spell – and I was about to drag them to the fountain when I heard running footsteps. Not an animal. A person.

I ran as fast as I could, reaching the base of the fountain just as a figure burst through the trees. It didn't take me more than a second to recognize him – it was the hunter who'd shot Sam. I would know the son of a bitch anywhere, and if I'd had any doubts, the scratch marks still on his face from my teeth and claws would've told me the truth.

Crap.

_Sammy! _I yelled, as loudly as I could. _Look out!_

Sam's head jerked up – too late. The gun went off, and I saw Sam fall. It felt like it was in slow motion, and despite my horror I was rooted to the spot. I watched his forelegs give way, sending him to his knees, and slowly, slowly, his hind legs buckled too.

No.

There had to be a way. Bambi's dad got him back on his feet after a gunshot, right?

(Of course I've seen _Bambi_, Sam. I had a stupid little brother who adored the movie and made me sit through it at least once a month.)

_Sammy! _I called. _Get up. Get up!_

(And, for the record, this makes _you _Bambi.)

_Sammy, get UP!_

Sam must have heard me, because his ears perked up a little. He started to struggle to his feet – kid still didn't have his coordination sorted out – but the hunter moved, pressing the muzzle of his rifle to Sam's head.

"Don't even think about it," he snapped.

_Crap._

Right. Only one thing for it. I had to turn myself human and then I could even the odds and teach the idiot once and for all that my baby brother was off limits.

With the birch twigs in my teeth, I scrambled up to the rim of the bowl.

"No!" the hunter yelled. "You! Squirrel! Stop! Stop right there or the moose gets it."

I turned.

The hunter was staring right at me, but he still had the rifle, rock-steady, held to Sam's head.

I glanced up at the sky. Fifteen minutes, tops, maybe less. We didn't have time for me to negotiate.

I estimated the distance. Twenty, maybe thirty feet. I could probably make the jump, and if I went for his eyes I could disable him. But it would take time, and that was the one thing we didn't have.

"Get away from the fountain," the hunter snarled, pressing the rifle harder against Sam's head.

Sam made a tiny whimpery little noise that set my blood boiling.

Right. Screw the spell. If we couldn't get it done in time, it was only a question of waiting six months for the Spring Equinox to try again. If the son of a bitch actually managed to do serious damage to Sammy…

I gathered myself for the jump.

There was a sudden snarl. The tiger, which I'd managed to completely forget about, sprang from nowhere, straight at the hunter. He screamed, pulling the rifle away from Sam and trying to shoot it. The shot went wide. The tiger was on him.

I turned away. It didn't matter what they did to each other. Neither of them was near Sam.

I shoved everything off the rim of the fountain into the water. Somewhere behind me I could hear the man screaming, the tiger snarling, and thuds and thumps and scratchy sounds that I didn't want to think about.

The surface of the water was rippling, now, moonlight glittering on its surface. As I watched, it started to gleam brighter and brighter until it was shining like a searchlight. After a moment, it dimmed, still shining but not blinding anymore.

I threw a glance over my shoulder at Sam. He was alive, but he didn't look up to moving.

I dived into the water.

It was like the way I'd felt turning into a squirrel, but in reverse. As soon as I hit the water I felt like my lungs were on fire, my fur was on fire, my _bones _were on fire. The world was spinning out of focus. I couldn't move or breathe or _think _–

And then the pain was receding, leaving a mild tingling feeling in my skin. My head broke the surface of the water.

I stood up on my human legs.

Fortunately (looks like sometimes happenstance _does _work in our favour, Sammy) I had my clothes. It would've been awkward to go looking for fig leaves in the middle of nowhere.

I scrambled out of the fountain and took in the scene. The hunter had exchanged his gun for a knife, and he'd managed to get a couple of good hits in, but he was definitely on the losing side of the fight. The tiger was a few seconds away from turning the hunter into hamburger meat.

I'd worry about that later. Right now my priority was Sam – Sam, who had raised his head enough to watch me but hadn't moved otherwise.

I got out of the fountain. My clothes were sodden, too many layers soaked through and clinging to me, making me shiver in the cold September air.

As soon as I was out of the water the tiger stopped rolling around with the hunter and looked up. It started towards me. I ducked, hand instinctively going for a gun I didn't have, but it wasn't interested in me.

I sidestepped and ran to Sam.

As I dropped to my knees beside him I heard a shot. I crouched, instinctively shielding Sam from whatever was going on behind me. He butted my hand with his nose, making a whuffling noise that I might've understood if I'd still been a squirrel.

I turned.

The tiger was on the ground a foot from the fountain, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the shoulder. The hunter was behind it, rifle cocked.

Sam made a distressed sound, looking up at me with big moose eyes.

"Oh, come on, Sammy," I said. "You're not serious. That thing almost ate you!"

Sam nudged my hand again.

"Fine." I raised my voice. "Hey! Dude! That's an endangered animal, you probably shouldn't kill it. At least until we've figured out what's going on."

"I'll tell you what's going on," the hunter began, but I cut in firmly.

"Later." There were barely ten minutes of moonlight left. "Need to fix my brother first." I got a hand under Sam's chin. "Sammy, come on. I can't carry you like this. You need to walk. Come on. Up."

Sam looked sad.

"Sammy. No giving up, now. Get up."

Sam struggled to his feet. There was no way I could help him walk – he was too damn big – so I settled for guiding him, walking in front of him with one hand on his muzzle. He was stumbling, staggering, blood still leaking from the claw marks down his sides, but there would be time to deal with that later.

"Into the water," I grunted when we got to the fountain. "I don't want to get in again in case it works in reverse… In you go, Sam."

I helped him lift his hooves over the rim, and then he went down again – in the water, fortunately, this time. I stood back to watch. As an observer I could see it was far quicker than it felt. In less than a minute, Sam, _my_ Sam, was coughing and sputtering in the water.

I reached out quickly to help him up.

The water was pink-tinged when he managed to get out. Sam was still bleeding from the gashes and the bullet wound. I grabbed him and helped him sit. He was shivering – cold, shock, I couldn't tell.

"Dean," he gasped, "the tiger."

"Sammy, we've got more important things to worry about."

"Dean, there's just a few minutes left. Come on."

I sighed. Life would be a lot easier if Sam didn't have such a damn conscience. But then I'd also probably have done a lot more crap to be ashamed of. (There, I admitted it. Happy?) What can you do? Not like you can turn the annoying boy-scout tendencies on and off.

"Fine," I said. "You stay here and keep breathing." I went to the hunter. "Dude. Let it go."

"You don't know what she's done!" the hunter protested.

"I know you shot my brother. Twice. So if I were you I would try being a little less self-righteous."

"She's a witch! She turned my partner into a _hamster_!"

"Yeah, and she'll get what's coming to her. As a _human_. Let her go. You can keep the gun trained on her."

"You guys must be hunters. You know what witches can do. Jimmy was a hamster for a year before I figured out how to break the spell. He still won't do anything all day but run on a giant exercise wheel."

I don't know what I would've done, but at that point the tiger solved the problem for me by leaping away, right into the fountain. The hunter yelled, pointing his rifle at it.

The last of the moonlight shone on the water, now faintly pink with Sam's blood.

Nothing happened.

The tiger looked up at the sky. We all looked up at the sky, staring like a bunch of pointy-eared idiots in a fantasy movie until the moon disappeared.

"What happened?" the hunter asked.

"Blood," Sam gasped. He was on his knees grasping the rim of the fountain to stay upright. "Blood… in the water. Spell won't work."

I let out a breath. "Talk about poetic justice."

The tiger snarled, gathering itself to pounce. I dived for Sam at the same time as the hunter raised his gun. I pulled Sam's head down and tucked it against my shoulder. He didn't need to see this.

I waited, holding my breath.

"Go," the hunter said at last. "By the time the fountain's running clean again… Well, good luck getting another hunter to come do this." He glanced at me. "She had hex bags across the street, probably trying to catch whoever passed when the time was right and hoping she'd luck out and get a hunter. The spell only works twice a year, just like the counter-spell. I thought I got rid of all the bags after she cursed Jimmy but I must've missed a couple."

The tiger snarled at us.

"Don't even think about it," the hunter said. "I _will _shoot. Go, and I'll give you an hour's head start before I call animal control. I expect you'll enjoy life in a zoo."

After a moment's consideration, the tiger turned and bounded off into the forest.

"Why doesn't she just do the counter-spell herself?" I asked.

"Too big, I guess. How does a tiger sneak into a Wiccan supplies store?"

I eased Sam down, and that was when I remembered that the hunter shot him. Twice.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said, obviously thinking the same thing. "I… I think I lost my mind a bit. Jimmy was my best friend, and now… Well. Woke me up, you and your brother being willing to help her after she… Yeah. Anything I can do to make it up to you…"

"Well, I don't have my cell phone, my brother's hurt, and we're in the middle of nowhere, so…"

"I have a car. Not too far. I can get you back to the witch's house, and you should be able to get to your car from there. I need to find that last hex bag, anyway."

"Sure." I got to my feet and went to him. "I'm Dean Winchester, that's my brother Sam."

He held out his hand. "The Winchesters. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Frank."

"Frank," I repeated. I ignored his hand, drew back my own, and punched him in the jaw. He went down like a sack of potatoes. "That's for hurting Sam. Do it again and that's going to be a bullet. We clear?"

"Abundantly," Frank groaned, getting to his feet. "You want to get back to civilization now?"

"Sure, man. Lead the way." I went to help Sam to his feet. "Come on, kiddo. We'll get you patched up."

* * *

THE END

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